Heat
by WhiteWings9
Summary: "Slowly, exhaling in deep, sensual breaths, Ivan's hand crept over Yao's shoulder, dark leather sliding over light silk." Russia/China. Relationship study. Angst. Non-con. Smut.


**Heat  
_by WhiteWings9_**

Yao stood stock still, staring at the edges of the mirror, refusing to look Ivan in the eye. The frame of the mirror was wood painted gold with delicate carvings – a western item.

"Look at me," Ivan murmured in a low, husky voice, right into Yao's ear. Yao's eyes darted into their reflection, his pale face a mask of indifference.

Slowly, exhaling in deep, sensual breaths, Ivan's hand crept over Yao's shoulder, dark leather sliding over light silk. Yao watched the hand wrap around his throat, imagined it tightening to choke him, kill him – but the fingers only worked to snap open the first button.

-

_The stone snow-dusted floor froze him to the ground, sapping his strength as he lay choking on his own blood. He ignored the man who stood watching him. He had nothing left. The barbarian hordes have taken everything from him, kidnapped his children, burned his churches, looted and plundered and murdered and raped. All he wanted now was to lie and let the snow cover everything in a fresh white blanket._

"_I expected better from you, Russia."_

-

The kisses turned to little nips, teeth lightly marking Yao's pale throat. Ivan inhaled deeply the fragile scent of perfumed incense, holding tighter to Yao's small frame as the Chinese nation tried to remain impassive, unresponsive to the caressing touches.

"Not like the north," Ivan whispered, his eyes closing, lips gracing Yao's sleek black hair. Yao raised his eyes to look into Ivan's, saw that they have turned a darker shade of purple and that his lips have twisted into a thin smile. "Words from my earliest memories, Yao."

-

_The fire licked at the frigid air, fighting to keep alive on its meagre fuel. The flames cast ghostly shadows, swaying in the light wind that whistled through the ruins. Ivan stared into the heart of the fire, subdued, ignoring the cold. He listened meekly to the man who stood by the flames, feeding it with bits of twigs._

_That night, the man told him of a distant land in the east, where it was warm and bountiful, and the people are happy under one peaceful rule. _Not like the north_, were his words._

_No, not like the north at all._

-

Ivan's hand returned to Yao's throat, drawing the silk collar close and smoothing down the fabric.

"He told me he once placed a brooch here."

At those words Yao froze. His eyes widened impossibly; what little colour he had in his complexion drained away, leaving him paler.

"A trinket from the south," Ivan continued unperturbed, stroking the underside of Yao's neck as one would a pet kitten. "A precious stone set in gold, an object of conquest stolen from some unimportant monarch. He placed it here, as a sign of ownershi-"

Yao tore Ivan's fingers from his throat, face flushing with fury. Ivan looked in mild interest at the reaction he had provoked, gazing hungrily at the exposed skin and wishing to mar the perfection. He met Yao's accusing eyes, saw the fright in it, and felt a stirring from within that simply wanted to claim those lips.

"You met _him_." It wasn't a question.

A beat.

"You were not the only land he invaded," Ivan said patiently.

-

_A dream kept him alive. In the never-ending cold, through the bitterest of winters, when he felt his will waning the dream would offer him some respite. It was almost always the same; a field of sunflowers, the fragrance of summer, sweet sweet grass baking under the smiling sun. And a person._

_He never could see who the person was. There was no face to the person. For a long time the person stayed in the periphery of his visions, teasingly close but never revealing himself._

_Then one day the person became Wang Yao._

-

Yao gritted his teeth, keeping his cries in check but the quietest of whimpers would sometimes escape. His small hands were fisted, pressed to the mirror; his hair spilled down his shoulders, silky ebony on milky ivory, in locks and strands that clung to sweat-soaked skin.

"Yao..."

"Nnh!"

His bare thighs were smooth under Ivan's ungloved touch. Ivan stroked it lightly, colouring the skin with a creeping red as his other hand continued thrusting into Yao's entrance, fingers spreading, stretching, slicking themselves in the natural lubrication. He kept his gaze fixed to the mirror, watching Yao's expression; discomfort mixed with a denied pleasure, soft, kiss-swollen lips slightly parted, letting loose harsh, sucking breaths, but holding back the cries, locking it in his pale, teeth-marked throat.

A wonderful, deceitful display of innocence. Ivan's thin smile stretched into a smirk.

-

_He will never forget the day he met Wang Yao. He was covered in sandy dust, his face streaked with dirt, but the pride in his eyes shone bright. A man in armour, a soldier, protector of his children. He carried the weight of an ancient empire on his small shoulders, a survivor of the past which have swallowed many empires before._

_A nation to aspire to._

_Ivan wanted him the moment he set eyes on him._

-

"Stop! Please! No..."

He was bent almost double, trembling uncontrollably, the pleas tumbling form his lips, tinted with hurt and shame – and the barest of desire. He could not stop them.

"Yao," Ivan breathed heatedly, voice thick with lust. It sent chills running down Yao's spine. Ivan pulled out his fingers, undid the buckle of his belt; Yao twitched slightly at the sound, shivering still.

"Yao…"

"Aaahh…!"

He was filled in a single, agonising thrust, the thick length slipping into him, throbbing hard. Ivan winced slightly; the tightness surprised him. Yao bit into his bottom lip, muscles tensing, quivering. He clenched around Ivan, panting hotly; Ivan let out a small groan, groping blindly, fisting a handful of Yao's hair and tugging it back; Yao cried out, reaching to clutch at his hair, whimpering pitifully as Ivan scratched his scalp.

"S-Stop…!" he begged tearfully.

"Stop unwittingly seducing me!"

-

_His eyes were warm, twinkling with the laughter of the carefree south. He brought with him the summer's breath, the heat of the sun, the blue skies, the white clouds. There was none of the harshness of the steppes, none of the withering cold, the coiling, sharp icy air. _

-

He slammed into Yao, not caring the pain he was inflicting, so consumed in his own need he was deaf to the cries of the Chinese nation. He wanted the heat, wanted to take all he could, steal what he had yearned and never had – the warmth of the southern lands.

_The thundering hooves of the barbarian hordes grew louder and louder, the horses snorting, spoilt mouths foaming. They descended on the village, killing everyone, bathing the mud streets red. Straw houses were set alight, women and children screaming, running, snatched by invaders to be sold, enslaved, taken away from their homes, from all they ever knew._

Ivan growled furiously, breathing in sharp, erratic gasps, clutching tightly to Yao who stared numbly into the mirror.

"Jao!" Ivan barked harshly; Yao jumped at his foreign name. With a shuddering groan, Ivan stilled and spilled into Yao, groaning in pleasure; Yao's breath hitched at the feel of the searing heat pooling inside.

-

_He emitted only warmth, his arms outstretched to welcome him._

-

Panting, sighing, smelling of sex and sweat and the stinging salt of tears.

It flowed freely from Ivan's eyes, and he buried into Yao's shoulder blades, to hide them from Yao and to hide from Yao.

Yao who looked at him with such cold hatred.

* * *

**A/n:**

I hate this sooooo much. First of, there's no cohesion. Second, it quickly descended into raep/smut. In a word, it sucks!

...the stupid man mentioned in the beginning, _him_, yeah, he's meant to be Mongolia. Sorry for the shitty character raepage D:

Had a bad day at lessons :(

**Ivan Braginski (Russia) and Wang Yao (China) from Axis Powers Hetalia (c) Himaruya Hidekazu**


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